


Cindered Wreckage

by Underestimated_amateur



Series: Honey Eyes And a Wolf's Heart [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Arson, Character Death, Child Stiles, Derek Blames Himself, Derek Hale Needs a Hug, Everything Hurts, Flashback, Hale fire, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Implied Mates, Kid Fic, Lotta Anget Here Guys, M/M, Major Character Injury, Panic Attacks, Teen Derek, Werefox Stiles, loss of home, self blame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 11:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10785999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underestimated_amateur/pseuds/Underestimated_amateur
Summary: It was like a story how everything played out. Like a tragedy his mother could've read to him from her library when he was younger.Derek is fifteen when he feels broken.





	Cindered Wreckage

 

It was like a story how everything played out. Like a tragedy his mother could've read to him from her library when he was younger.

He's lost his family, all of them except one. He and his uncle are the only ones left out of an entire pack, an entire family, out of an entire  _ legacy, _  but could two people so broken even be considered survivors? His uncle suffers from severe burn marks and is trapped in a catatonic state. The doctors tried to smile and say he’ll be okay. He’ll be up again, walking and talking some day. Just wait. They know for sure he will, he just needs time to heal. Derek would never respond. He’d listen to their words as much as the skipping of their heartbeats that follow. 

Peter doesn't move, doesn't speak, sometimes Derek wonders if the man ever breaths. He only sits there, utterly still as he stares at a wall, and it irks the young wolf shifter enough to cut visits short. Derek's never seen something with a beating heart so dead. It's hard to look at him, and not just because the man is a shell of himself. No long the prideful, snarky uncle Derek has always known him to be. Peter is also a reminder that it's all his fault. He's the reason that man, his uncle and one of his two friends, is stuck in a wheelchair all his life. He was stupid. He was naive. He should have known, should have seen it coming. 

  
Sometimes he wonders if Peter thinks so too. He wonders if the man could, he'd say so as well. If he could scream at Derek, he would. Derek wonders if his uncle hates him. That he wishes Derek died in the fire instead. Maybe he sits there all day thinking about it.  
Derek will never know, because his uncle won't _just say something dammit._

  
He's never felt more alone.

  
He had snuck out the night of the fire. He had went to see Stiles, the little kit had called him using his dad's swiped cell phone. He said he couldn't sleep and he missed him even though their ice cream trip was only two days go. They had to talk in whispers, afraid their families would wake up and their conversation would be cut short. Stiles seemed jittery and nervous over the phone. When pressed on it, he admitted he did that way, but didn't know why. But Stiles being anxious made Derek anxious. His instincts screamed at him to be next to the little one, if only to comfort both of them. So he climbed out of bed and ran. All he remembers was one moment he was throwing his covers off himself, the next he was gently knocking on Stiles's window at 11:30 at night, barefoot and wearing only the basketball shorts he slept in. His arms were around the kit the second Stiles opened his window. The seven year old giggled and dragged him to bed. The tension in their shoulders melted and they fell asleep to their scents mingling together. 

Hours later he woke up screaming. His entire body felt as if it were set on fire, the flames burning his very core. He felt his skin melting off his bones. All he could smell was the awful gagging scent of burning flesh and hair. He wanted to sob, but his throat felt clogged up with smoke. His ears rang with cries of agony and terror. He trembled and shook, flailing his limbs to escape, but he didn't go anywhere. Tears stung his eyes as he gasped for air. He couldn't breath. It was as if his lungs are being compressed and he was gasping for breath through a straw.  
  
_Fire. Burning. Pack. Family. Dying. Smoke. Panic. Trapped. Help._ _  
_

"Derek!?" Someone screamed, panicked and scared. He knew them, he knew that voice, but he couldn't seem to pinpoint who–

  
"Mommy, something's wrong! Help him! Why is he doing this!? Is he okay!? What's going on!?" The voice fired off question after question, sounding like a frightened child. There were more voices around him, just as alarmed and frantic, but he couldn't focus on anything but–  
  
_Fire. Burning. Pack. Family. Dying. Panic. Trapped. Help._ __  
_  
_ __FIRE. BURNING. PACK. FAMILY. DYING. HELP.

Hands grabbed at him but he violently jerked away. He was out of the house and sprinting home before he could even think. He could see the smoke before the house. Despite the burning of his lungs and ache of his body, he only ran faster, pushing himself harder. It was like a lighthouse when he finally came upon his home. The house’s light casting shadows against the trees around it, forcing away the darkness.

_ FIRE. BURNING. PACK. FAMILY. DYING. TRAPPED. HELP.  _

Everything was on fire. His home was burning. 

He heard the screams and cries again, this time right in front of him. His pack. His family.  _ They  _ were burning. He started to bolt toward them, ready to throw himself into the flames to get to them. His mind was racing, clouded with dread and adrenaline. His martyr mission was cut short when a pair of arms wrapped around him. Someone had been on his heels the entire time. The person dropped down before he could react, forcing him on his rear. He struggled against them, snarling with sharp fangs and eyes a blazing gold. They don’t let him go, instead held on tighter without hurting him. When he tried to take swipes at them with his claws, they growled, low and warning. An alpha’s command. The noise vibrates through his body, making him reluctantly cease his fighting. A spicy-sweet scent surrounds him then, one of lavender and ginger with hints of chamomile if he searches for it. Gentle hands run through his hair and small murmurings are whispered in his ears. It’s not right, everything is being destroyed right in front of him, but he turns away from it all, burying his face into the other shifter’s chest. He clings to them, sobbing, screaming, and his whole body riving in complete agony. 

Claudia Stilinski holds him close even after the police and firefighters arrive. She doesn’t acknowledge her own tears that stream down her face.  

_ FIRE. BURNING. PACK. FAMILY. DYING. CAN’T SAVE THEM.  _

_ FIRE. PACK. DYING. CAN’T SAVE THEM.  _

_ FIRE. BURNING. FAMILY. USELESS. _

_ FIRE. PACK. BURNING. FAMILY.  _

_ PACK. FAMILY. _  
  


_ DEAD.  _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead and I'm so sorry!!!
> 
> Here's the update FINALLY. 
> 
> Sorry the wait was so painful. Sorry this is even more painful than the wait. Are any of you guys still here? Haha
> 
> Let me know what you guys think. Next update is tomorrow! 
> 
> Until then ;)


End file.
